


Sam Wilson and the No Good, Very Bad Night

by lockedlocke



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Gay Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, M/M, Or at least tries to be, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam doesn't have a clue, Shameless Smut, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, porn with a little plot, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21586762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedlocke/pseuds/lockedlocke
Summary: Rather than forcing his roommate to come out, Sam decides save Steve from the awkward situation and does the first thing that comes to mind.He rolls over and pretends that he's asleep.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 30
Kudos: 673





	Sam Wilson and the No Good, Very Bad Night

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [Birdjay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdjay) who is a gem and helps me in such amazing ways. 
> 
> This fic is based entirely 100% of a reddit post, of a guy who faced himself in the similar situation and ever since then I was unable of letting the stucky version go in my head. Unfortunately I can't find the link, and googling the premise just suggests various porn sites. If anyone has it, please let me know so I can link it!

“So I have a date tonight,” Steve says as he stirs his spoon around in his soup. Though by the look of it, it’s only chicken broth.

Sam raises his eyebrows in surprise, spoon full of ice cream still in his mouth and turns to look at his roommate. Steve’s sitting on his bed, legs folded, hunched over the large mug. One of his shoulders peaks out from his t-shirt, slender and bony.

“That’s great!” Sam tells him, spinning around in his desk chair. He’s been Steve’s roommate for nearly six months now, and not once has he ever gone out, not even for beers. Instead Steve opted to stay inside and study. Sure, Steve had a lot to study, but at times Sam’s been a little bit worried about the introvert way that his roommate acts. 

Steve smiles a little, cheeks a little bit pink. Sam isn’t sure if he’s blushing over the idea of actually going on a date, or because he’s drinking a steaming hot liquid. “I was wondering,” Steve says as he brings the mug to his lips and gives it a careful sip, as to not burn his tongue. He turns a bit pinker. “I uhh, don’t want to be that guy? But there might be a chance that… you know, they come home with me.” Steve rolls his shoulders. 

Sam blinks at him, once, twice, and then gets what Steve’s getting at. 

“Ohhh!” He nods and grins to him. "Yeah I get it, don’t worry about it, I’ll spend the night somewhere else,” Sam says with a shrug. It’s only fair. Steve had done the same thing when Sam had been on dates with the possibility of getting laid. Now with Steve being the one to actually go out for the first time since well, ever of knowing him, he should return the favor. 

Steve’s cheeks turn even redder at that, but he keeps his gaze down. “Thank you.” 

“When should I head out? I was going to go for a run and then write some more on my paper,,” Sam says and scrapes out the last bit of ice-cream from the bottom of the small carton. 

“Well, we’re gonna go out for a bite to eat,” Steve begins and doesn’t get any further before Sam interrupts him.

“That why you’re barely eating?” Sam asks curiously, dumping the now empty carton in the trash by his desk. Steve looks at him, a little surprised. Steve’s expression is empty, he looks down to his mug. 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Steve says with a little shrug. “Anyway, we were going to do that at six, so if we get back here, it‘ll probably be around eight at the earliest. Between eight and nine.” 

“I’ll be out by seven at the latest,” Sam promises him and throws up a peace sign over his shoulder. He doesn’t catch the way that Steve smiles behind his back as he opens Facebook and starts a message to Natasha, already typing away asking if he can spend the night on her couch.

“Thank you, Sam.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Sam says, just as he hits send. 

*

After the run and a nice warm shower, Sam felt a lovely sensation of lead in his muscles. The moment he sat down by his desk again he felt downright and utterly exhausted. 

It’s been a long time coming. Sam had been up until four in the morning the previous night while working on his paper, slept for three hours and continued up until before the run. It was only natural the exhaustion would catch up with him at some point. He wasn’t a machine, even if college sometimes acted like their students were. 

He checked his watch -- it was only four in the afternoon. Steve hadn’t left his bed. Now he was laying down, laptop propped up against his legs and headphones in. He hadn’t begun getting ready yet. Sam pouts at the time in the corner of his laptop, and decides that one little powernap wouldn’t hurt. Just an hour at most, so he could still get some work done on the paper before he has to go. 

Sam shuts his laptop again, grabs his phone and goes to lay down on his bed on top of the sheets. He turns around so his back faces Steve, and sets his alarm for six o’clock, two hours at most. Puts down his phone on the bed and falls asleep like a rock. 

*

When Sam wakes,he has a moment of  _ what year is it _ and blinks. He rubs his eyes and looks around in the room. It’s pitch black and empty. He blinks a couple more times and fumbles for his phone again. When he finds it, Sam taps it to light up the screen. It blinds him at first, but when his eyes adjust, he looks at the clock. 

8:42 PM. 

Sam’s eyes widen, and he jolts up to a sitting position in his bed. He slept for nearly five hours?! That explains why he feels so rested, but why the hell didn’t his alarm wake him up? He was sure he set it. 

Sam twists on the bed, and puts his feet on the floor, checks the clock on his phone and sees that sure enough, the alarm that Sam had specifically created to wake him up at 6PM is now turned off, but still very much there. He must have turned it off in his sleep. Steve must already have left when it went off, and wasn’t around to wake him up. 

He has a couple of messages on his phone. Most of them are from Natasha, asking when he’ll turn up for the evening. He replies quickly that he’ll be there soon. 

Shit, he’s lucky Steve hasn’t come back yet with his date. Between eight and nine, he’d said, and it’s nearly nine now. What a dick move that would have been of him, the first time Steve asks if he could have their apartment to himself for an evening and Sam still has to make it out of the door by the time he arrives. Moments like these he wishes desperately that they could have afforded a two-bedroom apartment. Instead they’re stuck with a one-bedroom apartment, a kitchen and a bathroom, and that’s it. Not even a living room. Though he supposes they have more room than other students who live in the dorms. 

Sam locks his phone, and just as he’s about to get up he hears the lock twisting in the hallway. He freezes, he should get the hell out of there, now. Apologise profusely to them on his way out and make his way over to Natasha’s promptly so Steve can have some privacy. 

“Come in. You can just drop your shoes there in the corner and hang your jacket there,” Steve’s voice says in the hall as the door opens and Steve lets himself in. Sam takes a breath and prepares to call out his apology to Steve, ready to say that he fell asleep and that he’ll leave right this moment. But the words die in his throat when he hears Steve’s date speak up. 

“Thanks.” The voice is deep and gruff, but comes across as kind of sultry. It is most definitely not the voice of a woman. Sam sits stupefied on his bed as he realises that Steve’s date is a man, and not a woman. 

He had no idea. 

Which brings him to his next problem. Now, Sam thinks, he can’t just get up, make some excuse and leave. Steve had never once told him that he liked men. For a while Sam had suspected Steve liked men, but he’d never asked him about it and it wasn’t like Steve offered any information on the subject

For what it was worth, Sam absolutely did not care if Steve liked and dated men. As long as he found someone who was good for him, that was all that mattered to him. If that person came as a woman, great! If that person came as a man? Also great! 

But he still couldn’t leave their room now and apologize. Steve hadn’t shared that bit of information with him, and for Sam to get up and leave, avoid looking Steve and his date in their eyes would force Steve to come out to him. 

And that's something that Sam is not comfortable with. He wants Steve to come out to him whenever he’s ready for it, in the way that  _ he  _ wants to come out in. And not by some stupid mistake that’s entirely Sam’s fault. 

“These are pretty, you draw these?” The sultry voice asks again and wakes Sam up to the issue at hand. So he does the one and only thing that he can think of doing -- that is to just throw himself back in bed in the exact same position he had woken up in, and pretend to be asleep. 

“I did,” Steve says. Sam can hear the pride in his friend’s voice as he without a doubt is showing off the two artworks that they have hanging up in their hallway. The man makes a noise of amusement, and a couple of moments later there’s a dull thud against the wall.

Sam frowns to himself at that, but when there’s some smacking sounds moments later, Sam realises that they’re only kissing one another. He relaxes a little at that, feeling as if he’s peeking around the corner, watching them. 

He doesn’t move for a couple of minutes, and neither do Steve and his date. Then there’s a shuffling sound and footsteps. Sam tenses every muscle in his body. 

“Oh,” Steve sounds absolutely defeated as he steps into their bedroom, making Sam feel like a right proper asshole. It’s almost like Steve stabs him with a knife in his ribcage.

“I thought you said your roommate was going to be gone?” The man asks in a whisper, twisting the knife even more in Sam’s ribs. 

“He said he was,” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry, he must have fallen asleep again or something, he set an alarm,” Steve murmurs to him, also lowering the tone in his voice. “Your place is…?” Steve begins, a desperate tone of hopefulness in it. The man must have shaken his head because Steve only sighs. 

“If he slept through his alarm, he must be a heavy sleeper. We could be quiet?” The man suggests. Sam’s stomach turns, suggesting to Steve that they just ignore the fact that he’s laying there and putting Steve in an uncomfortable position like that. What a dick.

“We could,” Steve giggles, and Sam is forced to throw all he ever thought about Steve out of the window. Here he was, thinking that Steve would find the idea revolting. Instead, he seems to fall for it. 

They kiss again, and again, and someone is pushing the other to Steve’s bed on the other end of the room. Sam is facing the wall and isn’t willing to turn around to look. 

Someone gets pushed down on the bed, and considering the sounds that the bed makes, Sam has a feeling that it must be the date. The only way that small and skinny Steve could make his bed sound that way is if he’s jumping on it. 

“Get your pants off,” Steve says. The sound of belt buckles and zippers go through the room, there’s a definite playful edge to their interaction, with hushed giggles in between their kisses. Sam, for about the fifteenth time that evening, thinks that he is an absolute moron the moment he hears the date groan into a kiss. He’s best left in ignorance, he decides. He doesn’t need to know what they’re doing. Instead, he just closes his eyes and prays that he’ll be able to fall asleep. 

He doesn’t, of course. There’s the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapped being torn open and Sam bites on the inside of his cheek. 

“Oh fuck, that feels good,” The date murmurs, the sloppy wet sounds fill up the room and Sam begins to blush. “God, you look so pretty like that, with your lips around my dick,”

Definitely blushing, Sam’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire as the mental image of Steve sucking a dick fills his mind. Sweet, small innocent Steve with bright red lips and deep blue eyes with a dick in between his lips. Steve makes a sound, one that’s mixed with a bit of a groan, or a moan, Sam’s not entirely sure. But he knows enough that it’s a sound of enjoyment. The date kisses Steve again and they shift on the bed. 

“Wait, wait,” Steve murmurs in between their kisses, Sam imagines he pulls away. That he catches his senses and realises that perhaps they shouldn’t do this with a sleeping person in the room. “Towels, let me get some towels,” Steve says instead. 

There’s a shuffle, the pull of drawers and the sound of something being spread on the bed. Bodies undressing and kissing whenever they get a chance to. 

“You want to ride my dick?” The date asks. 

“Yes,” Steve responds breathlessly. “Lube is in the nightstand. Careful cause it creaks. And put the light on, I want to see you,” 

“Won’t he...?” The date asks, but the night stand gets opened, slowly and just barely avoids the creak. 

“No, it’s a nightlight, it wont give off much, but enough,” Steve responds breathlessly. Sam sees how his side of the room turns blue as the light gets turned on. There’s more sounds of shifting, and Sam gets another mental image of Steve now straddling his date. Moments later there’s a soft, small little moan. 

“How many fingers do you need, gorgeous?” The date asks. Sam has to admit to himself that even he would grow a little bit weak in the knees at being called gorgeous by someone who sounds like that. 

“Just two, just two give me two, I want to feel that dick of yours stretch me out,” Steve murmurs on a low tone. Those are words that Sam’s going to take with him to his grave. 

“Two. Two it is,” The date says. He must be giving him one of those, because Steve lets out another moan, a little louder and a little stronger. 

“That’s it, that’s it, Bucky,” Steve murmurs breathlessly. The date has a name. 

Whatever Bucky does with his finger (it’s in Steve’s ass, Sam knows, it has to be in Steve’s ass), he does something right. Steve makes delicious little noises at being treated like that, noises he never once made on the handful of times where Sam woke up in the middle of the night and overheard him jerk off. 

“Just like that, give me another one, come on, Bucky,” Steve demands. 

“Ask nicely, gorgeous,” Bucky teases, making Steve whine a little. 

“Please, give me another one now,” Steve repeats. Bucky must have done so, because Steve lets out another little moan. They keep the volume down, had Sam actually been asleep he probably wouldn’t have woken up. 

“Come on, now you, please,” Steve asks of Bucky. “I want to feel you now.” 

Bucky seems to give Steve what he wants. There’s more shuffling, and soon Steve lets out a gasp, loud and sharp and slaps his hand in front of his mouth to stifle it. “Fuck, you’re big,” he whines a little. 

“You okay? Don’t push yourself, don’t get hurt,” Bucky whispers to Steve, which makes Sam like the guy suddenly. So concerned about Steve’s wellbeing when he could be taking advantage for himself. 

“I’m okay, you feel good, just big,” Steve murmurs, but finds his enjoyment quickly. Before long he’s moaning softly, Bucky underneath him groaning and the sound of skin against skin fills the room. 

In reality, Sam knows that Steve only rides Bucky for a handful of minutes,but it feels like an eternity listening to them. The bed creaks and Bucky must have stifled Steve’s moan with a kiss. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, the pace suddenly shifts, starts to move with more ease. The bed rocks at a steadier pace now which makes Sam wonder how the hell Steve is going at it. It takes him a moment to realise that it might not be Steve anymore, based on how rhythmically he’s moaning, trying to keep quiet and making those squirming noises. 

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out. Sam thinks back to how Steve had been sitting in that bed earlier. How his cheeks had turned pink and finally red. That very same blush must now be spread over him. Steve makes a high pitched noise. 

“You like that? You like me touching you while I’m fucking you?” Bucky murmurs and he sounds smug the bastard. Sounds so proud of himself and the position that he’s got Steve in. 

Then, suddenly, Sam’s phone lights up and fucking ‘Bird is The Word’ starts playing from his phone. The screen blinks,and  _ screams _ Natasha as she’s calling him. 

Steve and Bucky freeze on the bed and Sam tenses every muscle again. Doing everything he consciously can to appear asleep, and in the process feeling like it’s glaringly obvious that he’s in fact awake. Natasha keeps calling him for about thirty seconds while Steve and Bucky wait with baited breath. Sam’s silently begging her, praying that she’ll stop. 

Then, his phone goes quiet, and the picture of Natasha sticking out her tongue, mocking him, changes to his regular display with a pop up that he missed a call. The room is quiet, and when Sam’s phone dings again - this time with a text message - Bucky and Steve break out in a fit of giggles they desperately try to stifle. 

“Oh my god, he really is a deep sleeper,” Bucky wheezes. There’s a smack as they kiss. “Your roommate really has  _ that _ song as his ringtone?” 

“He has a thing for birds,” Steve explains. He must roll with his hips or something cause it makes Bucky moan and gets him going again. Sam feels offended at that, it’s so much deeper than that. He’s studying to become an ornithologist for crying out loud! And the song was a fucking prank that he hadn’t gotten round to changing yet!

“Take me from behind?” Steve murmurs to Bucky as Sam slowly and carefully moves to reach for his phone. The last thing he wants is for Natasha to call the police because he never showed up. He lifts his phone lightly from the bed and flicks down the little switch that turns the sound off, then turns it around and downwards so he barely can see what he’s doing, and enters settings. 

Behind him, Steve and Bucky rearrange themselves on the bed while Sam does everything to lower the brightness all the way down as discreetly as he possibly can. Just as Steve moans again as Bucky most likely enters him again, Sam fires away a text to Natasha to tell him that he’s fine and that he’s staying with someone else instead. It takes her ten seconds to reply with an angry emoji, but he doesn’t bother trying to justify the situation or tell her what’s really going on. 

Steve’s bed rocks even faster now, skin against skin slapping a bit louder as they get more daring. If Bird is the word didn’t wake Sam up to that volume, they probably reason, then them going at it a bit harder won’t either. 

Unable to helping himself, Sam turns his camera on the phone. He’s curious, he’s listened to them for about twenty minutes now he realises, and he wants to know who the hell this Bucky is. He wants to put a face on the man. He doesn’t want to snoop, or oggle them for that matter. He just… wants to know. He flips the camera, and carefully raises it up just past his head. 

He instantly regrets it when Steve’s face down on the bed, moaning into his pillow with his ass up as this Bucky thrusts into him.

This Bucky, turns out, is a guy who has to be at least a head bigger than Steve, who is barely 5’4 on a good day. Hell, he even looks bigger than even Sam himself. And broader, he looks huge with muscles all over his arms, chest and waist. His thighs look as if they could crush a watermelon. His hair is brown and thick up in a bun, a slight stubble seems like a shadow on his face. There’s a tattoo of something that Sam can’t make out that snakes up his neck.

Bucky is at least twice the size of Sam, and thrice the size of Steve, and Steve is taking his dick like a fucking pro. 

Sam quickly lowers his phone. He has seen far too much than he’s ever wanted to and Sam would like to live the rest of his life blind, instantly regretting his choice. 

“Come on Bucky, a bit more,” Steve whimpers, sounding so needy. Bucky now forgetting all about being quiet, thrusts harder into Steve, with a loud moan. Steve’s whimpers gets louder as well. “Bit more, bit more, bit more please, please, please,” Steve whines, sounding so desperate for more, as if he’s hanging on to the fringes of it all.

Bucky is starting to sound out of breath, worked up, his rhythm is failing him and Sam has a feeling he’s pretty close as well. Steve gasps for breath, for a moment not breathing at all that it almost has Sam worried that he’s having an asthma attack. But then Steve moans loudly, Bucky slams into him and groans, having both of their bodies fall still. 

Slowly the room tumbles into silence and all that is heard is the sound of their heavy breathing. Then, completely out of character, Steve begins to giggle. Bucky joins in only moments later. 

“Did you like that?” Bucky murmurs to Steve, who gives no response. He must have nodded. There’s the sound of more kissing, the two bodies coming apart and dropping next to one another on the bed. Sam finally relaxes, hoping that this is the end, that it was just one round and that they won’t push their luck anymore.

For a moment, they say nothing, probably cuddling up to one another. Then Bucky speaks again, “I should go.” 

“Okay,” Steve says, softly. “This was nice.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Bucky shifts a bit in the bed, then pauses. “Can I see you again?” 

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “Next time, we’ll be alone, and I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs and I scream.” Sam can imagine the grin as Steve says this, and will never look at Steve the same way again. 

“It’s a promise.” 

There’s the sound of clothes as Bucky dresses, Steve doesn’t move off the bed, most likely admiring the other man. “Call me soon, yeah?” Bucky says, they kiss again. And then finally, Bucky sneaks out of their room and quietly closes the door behind him. Steve flops down on the bed for a moment longer, giggling some to himself. Then, he gets up to shower. 

It’s at the sound of that, of Steve showering, that Sam finally relaxes, and falls asleep again. 

*

Sam wakes up in the morning to his daily eight o’clock alarm, light flooding their room. He feels a little cold after having slept above his sheets all night. He stretches as he rolls over and discovers that Steve’s bed is empty. There is sound in the kitchen however, so Sam rubs his face and gets up. 

He trudges into the kitchen, where Steve’s sat by their small table with a bowl of cereal and a comic book. “Hey,” Sam says to get his attention, hoping that Steve isn’t angry at him. He has no right to be, he got laid anyhow. Steve looks up to him and smiles, all bright and happy. 

“Morning,” Steve shovels another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t leave yesterday, I fell asleep and…” Sam shrugs as if to say  _ Here I am _ . “I know you expected me gone, I’m sorry, It won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Steve says chirping. Giving Sam no reason at all as to not believe Steve. He seems genuine, he looks genuine. “They didn’t come home with me anyway.” 

“Huh,” Sam says, half of a mind to call Steve a liar. He doesn’t, it’s not his place. He reminds himself that Steve hasn’t told him anything, so he is to know nothing. “Well then, I lucked out this time. Next time I’ll be gone. I promise you.” Sam smiles to him and heads over to the fridge to find something to eat. “How did the date go? You going to see them again?” 

“It went well, and we’ll see each other again, we’re already making plans,” Steve confesses to him. Sam on the other hand, decides not to ask for details. 

*

At eleven in the morning, Sam leaves their apartment, backpack slung over his shoulder as he heads out onto the street. He had made plans a week prior to go over to his mother’s place for dinner, as he did every weekend, and after that he was going to go to the library. Steve had told him that he’d just stay in and study. Sam believed him. But as he walks down the street, fumbling with Spotify to get a good song come through on shuffle, he spots a slightly familiar figure. 

Bucky walks towards him without looking at him. It has to be Bucky, there’s a tattoo on his neck peeking out from underneath his death metal shirt, at the exact same spot that Sam had seen the night before. Dressed in a leather jacket, ripped jeans and heavy army boots, he seems like the last guy someone like Steve would date. His hair is up in a bun, like it had been the night before. Now in bright daylight as he walks past Sam, he seems even bigger than he had the night before. He has his phone in hand.

Sam halts his step and turns, grinning to himself when he sees that Bucky punches the code to their building, and lets himself in.


End file.
